


The devil's in the detail

by neverwere



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Autumn, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Time Skip, They're dumb and cute, that's the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28778334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverwere/pseuds/neverwere
Summary: "It takes him a whole three months to notice, but after that he can’t stop looking.You see, it’s not very evident, it’s one of those details you can just overlook day after day after day.Barely there, not much more than a speckle. It’s inconspicuous, truly.And yet, it hits Atsumu with the full force of a hurricane, capturing his attention with a destructive, irresistible pull."OrTwo cute disasters getting together.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 26
Kudos: 229





	The devil's in the detail

It takes him a whole three months to notice, but after that he can’t stop looking.

You see, it’s not very evident, it’s one of those details you can just overlook day after day after day. 

Barely there, not much more than a speckle. It’s inconspicuous, truly.

And yet, it hits Atsumu with the full force of a hurricane, capturing his attention with a destructive, irresistible pull.

The thing is, the untouchable Sakusa Kiyoomi, turned approach-with-caution Omi-kun, turned wishful-thinking Kiyoomi, has a little mole on his upper lip. 

It’s small and faint, just a fleck of brown against dark pink, regrettably easy to miss unless he’s sitting to your right, and he’s close enough because Adriah’s girlfriend joined last minute and everyone is squeezing a little tighter around the table, and the lights in the izakaya are for once bright enough, and the captain is toasting to the latest team victory so they all raise their glasses in the air, and then Atsumu turns to clink his drink against Sakusa’s, and Atsumu’s gaze naturally follows the movements of the glass as Sakusa brings it to his lips to drink and— 

_there_

There it is, an insignificant dark spot just a little below his Cupid’s bow, just a little on the left. Instantly unforgettable.

Atsumu almost chokes on his drink.

Once he stops coughing and his heart rate goes back to normal, Atsumu _has to_ check that he didn’t hallucinate and, yep. Still there. Still incapacitating his cognitive functions.

Sakusa watches him warily, but doesn’t say anything. Not that he ever says much anyway. So far Atsumu’s only been able to obtain some too vague details about his university years, and half a laugh that time he tripped in the locker rooms. He’d never tell anyone, but he considers that a victory.

It makes sense that it took Atsumu so long to notice. The mole is not the kind of thing you see while you’re playing volleyball, and Sakusa is often wearing a face mask outside of training, so his negligence can be excused, he thinks.

But once he does notice, it becomes a near obsession. He cannot unsee it. Whenever Sakusa is not wearing a mask, Atsumu can’t take his eyes off the little mole. When they’re standing a few feet apart he squints to see if it’s still visible (it isn’t). 

Sakusa catches him staring a few times and asks, “Do I have something on my face?” while wiping his mouth with a tissue.

A couple of times Atsumu has to reply _yes_ because he can’t really admit to the truth, can he? Unfortunately, the net effect of his lies only make Atsumu’s head spin faster because now Sakusa is not only looking at him — exposed mole, long lashes and all — but also rubbing his fingers along his lips and at the corner of his mouth in an attempt to remove a non-existent crumb. The combination of those dark, dark eyes and the expectant look they give him, in a silent _Is it clean now?,_ really fuck with Atsumu. He can barely blurt out a winded “Yer okay now,” before excusing himself.

After a couple of these disastrous interactions, Atsumu starts to avoid being close to Sakusa when his face is uncovered. When they’re out eating with the team he takes the seat furthest away. When the circumstances don’t allow him to retreat, Atsumu tries to keep Sakusa to his left, exploiting that particular mole-shaped blind spot as much as he can.

Atsumu knows the whole situation is ridiculous. He is sorely aware of it, and he wishes with all his might that he could just ignore the magnetic pull of Sakusa’s mouth, pretend it’s not there, erase the memory, but he can’t, _he can’t_.

It’s debilitating, and the mole is not even the root cause of all his problems but merely a (terribly tempting) catalyst.

It’s like this minuscule spot is the exact weight and shape and size to trigger the irreversible detonation of Atsumu’s Pandora’s box, ready to unleash his obviously unrequited feelings. Too bad they are directed towards his prickliest teammate. Who is also, and that’s the tragedy, obnoxiously handsome, smart and driven; plays some of the meanest, sexiest volleyball Atsumu’s ever seen; has a dry, bastard sense of humor that catches Atsumu off guard every time. Reveals patches of rough kindness dressed in sharp edges, barely visible but unmistakably there. 

He can’t explain it, but Sakusa’s presence pushes his buttons but his boundaries too, makes him want to jump and reach and overtake. And okay, half of it may be out of actual spite, but does it matter in the end, really? 

Another thing about Sakusa is the brutal honesty, and it may be his deadliest weapon. Atsumu can’t hide behind hypotheticals and speculations — Sakusa doesn’t like him much, possibly at all. He has told him so. And therefore it becomes something of a necessity to hide away whenever he feels close to spilling the unsavoury truth in front of the person who holds the knife. 

Keep it in, hold it tight, push it down. 

Try for friends.

(it’s for the best)

And don’t, ever, ever, _ever_ look at the fucking mole.

*** 

Not right away, but pretty early on, Kiyoomi picks up on the change in Atsumu’s behaviour. It’s… strange. Atsumu is his usual self most of the time, but occasionally their interactions turn stilted and awkward. He has the strong feeling that Atsumu is intentionally avoiding him. Not all the time, but enough to take notice.

He starts paying attention to it and it doesn’t take him long to connect that Atsumu acts weird when any eating or drinking is involved, but Kiyoomi can’t really explain how or why.

Atsumu doesn’t seem to have any issues with food itself, it’s only when Kiyoomi is around that he gets uneasy. It’s as if— as if Kiyoomi eating or drinking _specifically_ bothers him.

So he tries to avoid having food and drinks when they’re together, he doesn’t want to trigger Atsumu or make him uncomfortable. And maybe he’s starting to enjoy the time he spends with the idiot — what of it — and doesn’t want to spoil it. 

He feels a little like it’s his fault, perhaps he eats in a weird way? He makes repulsive noises? Maybe his mouth is disgusting? Nobody ever told him anything about it before, but why would they. Could it be his teeth? Are they crooked? Yellow? Ugly? 

He spends an evening in front of the bathroom mirror, looking at his mouth, the inside of his cheeks, tongue, teeth, palate. It’s one of the most bizarre evenings of his life. He can’t find anything obviously wrong though. Sure, a couple of his bottom teeth are misaligned, and one of the upper incisors has a small chip missing from the corner, from that gym accident when he was fourteen. But that wouldn’t be enough to justify Atsumu shifting away from him mid-discussion, surely?

The next time he has dinner at home alone he takes a hand mirror and props it up on the table, behind his plate. He compares his own reflection with youtube videos of people eating the most disparate things. Sushi, burgers, ice cream, noodles. Again, he can’t find anything obviously wrong. He chews with his mouth closed. His breath doesn’t smell bad (he thinks), he has a pretty solid oral hygiene routine — brushing, flossing, tongue scraping, the whole shebang. He does start to carry around little mints and xylitol chewing gums though, just in case.

Kiyoomi becomes a little self-conscious okay? But can you blame him? Atsumu seems to freeze and give in to his worse flight response the moment Kiyoomi removes his face mask. He has tested this, deliberately, on at least three separate occasions, and after that he sort of accepted it as a fact.

The strangest thing is, as long as his face stays covered, his interactions with Atsumu are good. Nice. He’d say they are... friendly. Friends? Maybe friends, yeah.

Towards the end of the summer they start to hang around more, and settle in a routine of sorts where once or twice a week they go to the park a few minutes down the road from the MSBY apartment complex. They walk around and talk, mostly, sit on benches, look at dogs. You know, the usual things people do in parks. They also bicker non-stop and throw jabs at each other, and Kiyoomi wouldn’t admit it aloud but it’s _fun_. 

Without putting much thought or effort into it, they share small parts of their lives. Inconsequential stories, sparse details that don’t mean much but that Kiyoomi treats as valued finds nonetheless.

He still has the impression that Atsumu is holding something back. There's a wariness that he can occasionally sense in Atsumu. In the way he sometimes pauses mid sentence or averts his gaze. Little tells that Kiyoomi picks up and files away for future consideration, biding his time until the whole of Miya Atsumu will finally make sense.

Once autumn is in full swing, and the trees in the park start to turn deep red, Atsumu suggests they go view the foliage display in one of the best spots in the country. 

What he actually says is, “Y’know Omi-kun, we could go see the leaves in Kyoto if ya want, Samu says Arashiyama’s really somethin this time of the year! But I know ya don’t like crowds and Kyoto’s always packed fulla people an’ tourists so it’s fine if ya don’t wanna go, I could drive us tho if ya don’t wanna take the train, but I mean, there’s lotsa places with maple trees, even round here, we cou—” 

“Sure, I’d like that.”

“That what?”

“Kyoto. The leaves. Autumn.” Ugh, why do his words always have to be so clumsy? Kiyoomi cringes, but when he looks over Atsumu is smiling. Maybe it's fine. 

“Huh. Wanna go on Sunday? Or Monday? We don’t have practice and it should be quieter then.”

Kiyoomi’s not entirely sure, but he thinks he may be smiling as well, just a little bit. He’s allowed to underneath the mask. “Monday works,” he says. 

It’s a day trip. If Kiyoomi is honest with himself, it feels like a date. Maybe he hopes it’s a date. Not that he’s going to ask, but maybe. Maybe.

***

Because it’s not a date, but also _not_ not a date, it takes Kiyoomi an inordinate amount of time to get ready when Monday comes around.

He has a lengthy phone call with Motoya where he’s forced to turn the camera on halfway through. He’s aiming for that elusive, casual grace that looks effortless but unfortunately is anything but. Motoya’s remark “You look like the winner of Japan’s 21st-Century Best Son in Law competition,” is not as reassuring as he’d like, even if he decides to take it as a compliment.

He can admit to himself that he may be a bit nervous. A teeny tiny bit. He hasn’t been on a date in a while. Quite a while. A year. Possibly in the plural form.

His stomach is still twisting in elaborate knots when Atsumu arrives to pick him up. There’s an Onigiri Miya logo on the side of the car and Atsumu is wearing a goofy grin which is an open invitation for a forehead flick. It’s when Atsumu says _Ow, ya jerk!_ and follows it with a chuckle that Kiyoomi’s shoulders finally relax, and he knows the day will be okay.

They get in Atsumu’s (Osamu’s) car and he’s surprisingly not a bad driver. He hums along with the radio and taps the beat on the steering wheel. The journey is almost too quick.

Kiyoomi had forgotten how breathtaking Kyoto can be. 

The red of its temples, the poise of the ancient quarters, the sound of wooden sandals on stone steps. But it’s also the school children wearing yellow hats on the opposite side of the riverbank, the shops too small for all their wares, the souvenirs, calling bright from doors and windows. The limitless vertical green of the bamboo forest. And in between, around corners and courtyards, sprinkled over parks and gardens like an autumn wonderland, the trees are ablaze in red and orange. 

_it’s_

_magnificent_

Kiyoomi has always liked autumn but this time it feels a little more special. Atsumu is there, bright and bubbly, and he looks like he dressed to match the leaves, bringing his own shades of ginkgo-gold and maple-rust. Kiyoomi is a little mesmerized, and almost feels inadequate in his own blues and blacks. 

He keeps his mask on all day, waving Atsumu off the couple of times he offers food or drinks. 

It is, by Kiyoomi’s standards, a great day (date). He’s at ease, in a way that hardly ever occurs outside of his own home and the volleyball court. 

The light is turning a warm amber, and the trees glow like flames. 

Atsumu, too. 

Looking at him makes Kiyoomi feel a little lightheaded. It’s been a whole day of almost touches, involuntary-intentional brushes of hands and shoulders as they walked side by side through the city, just a little closer than they should be. 

Atsumu laughs and the next time their hands touch (inadvertently, of course) Kiyoomi chases the warmth and entwines their fingers together. His skin feels clammy, he hopes Atsumu doesn't notice. 

Atsumu stills and looks at him, looks at their hands, looks back at him with eyes wide and wondrous. Kiyoomi’s heartbeat races and flutters in his throat, and his head spins a bit, so he holds tighter on Atsumu’s hand.

Is this what a crush feels like? Because Kiyoomi thinks he could pass out — it’s dizzying, intoxicating. 

And _oh_.

wait 

actually

He’s pretty sure he’s about to faint. For real. Shit. 

He manages to blurt out a slurred “‘tsumu, ’m not feeling okay,” before his vision dims and his knees give out. He stumbles forward.

Luckily, Atsumu is there to catch him.

“Omi?! Omi! What’s going on?” 

He hears the shrill of panic cutting through Atsumu’s voice.

From underwater, Kiyoomi mumbles “think ’s low blood sugar,” because somewhere in between the spinning sensation and the looming unconsciousness he knows he hasn’t eaten since they left Osaka, and they’ve been walking around all day, and he’s most likely dehydrated. 

Atsumu supports him with an arm around his back and guides him to the side of the path, under the shade of the trees. He makes Kiyoomi lie down with his back flat on the ground, and a folded jacket under his head. 

When the buzzing and the swirling slow down at last, he tentatively opens his eyes. And _oh_. Maybe it was a mistake, because he’s greeted with the view of an upside down Atsumu, with furrowed brows and pink lips and hair swaying gently, golden against the scarlet background of the canopy. 

A new vertigo rushes in, but this time it has nothing to do with his low blood sugar. 

Belatedly, he realises Atsumu has been speaking for a while. 

“Omi? Talk t’me please. Do I need ta call an ambulance? Please tell me yer not about to die or somethin.”

Huh. Maybe he is, just a little. “’m fine. I mean, I don’t think I’ll die.”

Atsumu’s sigh is thick with relief. Very gently, he brushes Kiyoomi’s hair away from his eyes. 

Kiyoomi jerks briefly, surprised, and Atsumu quickly takes his hand away. 

“Sorry sorry, I know ya don’t like to be touched.” 

“Huh, no, hey. It’s okay.” Very eloquent, Kiyoomi, well said. But it is. Okay. Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly so. 

Atsumu’s hand comes back to his forehead, and it’s soothing. “I think yer having cold sweats, yer skin doesn’t feel right.”

“Ugh,” is all Kiyoomi can express, and he hopes it makes his displeasure clear.

Atsumu says, “Hold on,” as he leaves Kiyoomi’s field of view to rummage through his backpack. The red leaves frame small patches of blue sky, creating a saturated picture in contrasting primary colors.

Kiyoomi is startled by the cool touch of a wet towel across his brow and cheekbones. 

“It’s my hand towel but it’s clean, I promise, I haven’t used it today.”

Kiyoomi hums, relaxing and closing his eyes for a moment, enjoying the gentle brush of the cloth against his eyelids and eyebrows. It’s really, deeply, nice to be touched like this by hands he trusts. 

Huh. That’s a novel thought. He _trusts_ Atsumu. 

He does, and the admission is not even unsettling.

The touch comes back once again, as Atsumu passes the dry side of the towel to his face. 

“Omi-kun?”

Kiyoomi opens his eyes.

“D’ya feel like ya can stand upright? Ya need ta eat an’ drink somethin.”

Kiyoomi nods, “Okay, let me try.”

Atsumu shuffles next to him to help him up, and then maneuvers him to rest with his back against the tree. 

“I’ve got sweets an’ some water in my bag. Sorry though, it’s my water bottle, I know yer squeaky ‘bout sharin, I can run an’ get ya somethin from the cafe if ya want, but I’ll hafta leave ya here alone and—”

“It’s fine,” Kiyoomi stops him, “I don’t mind.” He stretches out a hand towards Atsumu, palm up. “Give it here.” 

Atsumu hands him a small plastic bag of gummy worms and a metal bottle. 

Only then Kiyoomi realizes that he’s still wearing his face mask, which is actually the whole dumb reason why he almost fainted in the middle of a public park. He hopes Atsumu won’t be too bothered by his face this time, cause he doesn’t really have an alternative. 

He slowly unhooks the mask from his ear, looking at Atsumu for a reaction. 

Aaaand— there. There it is. Like clockwork, Atsumu freezes for a second, and maybe blushes a bit, but it’s difficult to tell because the light is very warm, and they’re under the shade of a tree, and everything is a little too golden and persimmon and tangerine and looks so soft and inviting that Kiyoomi has to stop his hand from reaching out to touch.

Instead, he eats the gummy worms, drinks the water, and, truthfully, starts to feel better.

Atsumu chews on a piece of candy too, without talking. He seems to be a little troubled still, despite Kiyoomi’s reassurance that he’s recovered. 

“What’s bothering you?” Kiyoomi asks.

“Nothin, swear.”

“Liar. Tell me.”

“I— uh—,” Atsumu swallows audibly. “Omi… Why didncha drink or eat nothin’ all day? Ya must’ev felt it comin.”

“I— fuck.” Here goes. “Okay look, don’t take it the wrong way, but I noticed you get really weird when I take my mask off, and I have no idea why. And then you avoid me. Today was going so well that I didn’t want to ruin it, so I kept the mask on. I guess I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” _Or make you want to leave._

Atsumu’s face does a funny thing at this admission. It scrunches all over, as if he’s bitten on something very sour, and then it goes a little soft, with all its corners pulling downwards. 

“Ah shit,” he says, rubbing a hand across his face. “I’m really sorry Omi-kun. Ya shouldn’t have done that for me.”

“I told you, I didn’t want to spoil our date.”

Atsumu’s eyes go wide. 

Shit. Fuck. Retreat. Dammit. Was it not a date after all? Fuck. It’s not the first time he’s misread the room. Kiyoomi thinks he doesn’t deserve to have these slippery conversations after almost passing out. Whatever, he’ll claim diminished responsibility later. Now deflect. 

“So what’s the problem with my face? You didn’t deny it.” As he speaks, Kiyoomi takes hold of the free side of his mask once again, and moves to secure it back on. But before he can hook the elastic band behind his ear, Atsumu’s hand shoots out to catch his wrist. 

“Ya don’t hafta do that.”

Kiyoomi stares at him; doubtful, waiting. 

Atsumu looks down at his own knees. 

“‘S just. Shit. This is gonna sound so stupid. Omi, I’m sorry. It’s just—” 

Atsumu raises his gaze once again, his eyes dart across Kiyoomi’s face, gravitating and finally setting their focus on his mouth. 

“Didja know ya have…” 

Atsumu releases Kiyoomi’s hand, the one still holding the side of his mask. His fingertips hover above Kiyoomi’s face, before sliding down across his mouth with the softest of touches. 

“... Here…” Atsumu’s voice is a low whisper now, and Kiyoomi’s heart is about to beat out of his chest. 

“... Ya have a mole, a little one…” Atsumu brushes the pad of his thumb across Kiyoomi’s upper lip, slowly tracing its shape from the bow in the middle to the corner.

Kiyoomi stops breathing. 

“Once I noticed, I couldn’t stop looking.” Atsumu’s eyes come back up to burn straight into Kiyoomi’s. He swallows. “... I couldn’t stop looking at ya…”

And if Kiyoomi’s ever heard one, and even if he hadn’t, he’s pretty sure this is a confession. And the way Atsumu seems to be leaning towards him, as if he’s unable to resist — he’s close, so close — it’s Kiyoomi’s cue, if he wants it to be. 

And he wants. He wants it so much. For a while now he’s wanted to kiss Atsumu, run his fingers through his hair, find out what his skin smells like when Kiyoomi’s nose is pressed against his cheek.

And holy fuck, this time he can. 

He will. 

He does.

He curls a hand around Atsumu’s neck and drags him in for a kiss. It’s soft, sticky-sweet of gummy worms, and possibly the single most electrifying sensation Kiyoomi’s ever felt. 

Atsumu passes his tongue on Kiyoomi’s mole, and bites into it, and licks into Kiyoomi’s mouth when he opens it for him. 

They kiss against the tree as time blurs and colors too. Atsumu is so close he’s almost sitting in his lap, and runs his hands across Kiyoomi’s face, through his hair, around his neck, along his arms, under Kiyoomi’s shirt — he’s everywhere, lighting sparks across his skin. 

Atsumu’s hands become the only measure of time that makes sense, the only one that’s left. 

They kiss until Kiyoomi feels dizzy again, and overhead, through the leaves, the sky has turned an intense, lovely shade of indigo blue.

It’s tempting to just stay there, bask in the warmth and feeling of Atsumu against him and forget about the world for a while longer.

But they shouldn’t. They can’t, really. 

Reluctantly, they disentangle and get back to their feet. 

“Omi. Omi. I say this with respect. Disrespect, actually. But what ya did today, not eating and stuff, is the dumbest shit ya’ve ever done.”

“You can’t talk okay? You avoided me. For months! For a fucking mole!”

“Shaddup I had to save yer ass from faceplanting cuz ya were too stupid ta drink or eat all day!”

Kiyoomi would very much like to hide under a pile of leaves until spring. “Not a word to a living soul. You’re a dead man, I mean it.”

“Wait until Moto-chan hears about it,” Atsumu says with mischief dancing across his face.

“Especially not— what the fuck?! _Moto-chan_ _???_ ”

“I, uhrm. May have. Talked to yer cousin before.”

Kiyoomi’s eyes go narrow, sharp. “Continue.”

Atsumu doesn’t even try to resist. “We talked ‘bout ya. I swear, nothin bad, just— some advice.” He looks down and mumbles as if addressing his feet, “I wanted t’make it good f’r ya.”

And gods, what did Kiyoomi do to deserve the pain-joy that this man brings him. He’s a disaster. Beautiful, annoying, chaos that warms his heart in a way he never expected.

He bumps the tip of his boot against Atsumu’s shoe. “Hey.” 

Another bump. “Today. Was not bad. Apart from the, uhm, _accident_.” 

Another bump. “I—” 

He hesitates for a moment, and then reaches to take Atsumu’s hand again. “I liked it,” he says in a low voice. He closes his fingers tight around Atsumu’s, swallows. “I like you.”

Atsumu jerks his head up and says “Shit,” with whiplash intensity. 

Kiyoomi’s face may be close to the surface temperature of the sun but he manages an eye roll. “Did you miss the point where I let you stick your tongue in my mouth for the past hour or so?”

“But Omi ya were incapacitated! How did I know it wasn’t the last kiss of a dying man hah?”

“Did you just admit to taking advantage of me?!”

“Nooo!”

Kiyoomi starts to walk in the general direction of the park’s exit, pulling Atsumu along. “You’re buying me dinner to make up for it.” 

“Damn, I knew ya were high maintenance.”

“Yes yes Mr. weekly beauty salon appointments. Better be good food, I’m hungry.”

“Skincare’s important ya ogre. And doncha worry, got a place booked up for yer majesty already. ‘S got a fancy view of the river an’ all.”

“Huh… You really planned it.”

“Yeah. I did. Thought it’d be romantic. Y’know, moonlight ‘n shit. But no, ya just had ta go an’ swoon over me fer a bit of old fashioned hand holding. Didn’t take ya for a virgin Omi-Omi.”

“Do you know what the river is really good for at night?”

“Dunno, kissing? Dirty handjobs? Y’know we can use the car f—”

“Disposing of dead bodies.”

Atsumu laughs, loud and full and happy, and squeezes his arm tighter around Kiyoomi’s waist. “Alright, ya can murder me after dinner if ya want.”

“Looking forward to it.”

A beat. 

They’re still walking, still wrapped around each other. Kiyoomi catches the first glimpse of the river, over where the road opens up. 

“Hey Omi.”

“Mhm?”

“I like ya too.”

Kiyoomi keeps Atsumu tucked under his arm and a smile curled around his lips, this time with no mask to hide it (but it’s dark enough, probably). 

He thinks Atsumu knows it’s there anyway, with its upturned corners and chapped lips and a little brown mole, waiting to be kissed.

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of weeks ago I noticed that someone I’ve known for years has a mole on their upper lip and my brain immediately went BUT WHAT IF SAKUATSU, so here we are again.
> 
> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> I’m [here](https://twitter.com/ginkobean/status/1351661108520767488)!
> 
> \---
> 
> Stay safe friends! [Signs of hypoglycemia](https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/low-blood-sugar-hypoglycaemia/#symptoms) according to the NHS.


End file.
